


Disarmed And Stripped

by cueonego



Series: Shassie Oneshots [5]
Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Gun Kink, Lassie just loves gun and seeing Shawn handle the gun, M/M, Rough Sex, but not like the dangerous way of actual gun kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29600262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cueonego/pseuds/cueonego
Summary: Lassiter finds out that Shawn can disassemble a gun. He goes buck wild, because come on, Lassiter has to be gunsexual.
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer
Series: Shassie Oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197524
Comments: 11
Kudos: 69





	Disarmed And Stripped

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know a thing about guns, so please understand if there are any gun related mistakes.
> 
> Thank you [goobzoop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goobzoop) for the beta ❤️

One of Lassiter’s favorite activities besides shooting his guns is cleaning his guns. It’s something that takes time and effort, but he always tries to make time to do it, regardless of how busy he can be.

It’s almost therapeutic— there is _something_ about stripping the immaculately put-together machine down to its basic parts and tending to each and every one of the little pieces. It gives him something to focus on, and the mechanical movements help steer his thoughts from wandering towards the unpleasant corners of his mind that he would visit otherwise.

The best part is when he gets to insert the solvent-soaked cleaning rod down into the barrel. When he pushes it through past the slight resistance and sees the white cloth coming out all black on the other end, it feels cleansing. It’s almost like he’s closing a chapter on the bullets he shot out during the week.

Not to mention oiling it slick afterwards. When the pull-through tool impregnated with a light lubricant enters the barrel, shit, it feels amazing. He puts special care to the action of the gun as well, and the smooth movememt of a well-lubricated gun feels almost like _exploding sex in his hands_.

Okay, maybe that’s— it didn’t come out quite right, but there is _definitely_ something sexual about it, and there is no reason to deny himself the pleasure.

He lays out his service weapon onto his dinner table, a sturdy work surface he needs it to be at this moment. The first thing he does is unload it and set the magazine down. After opening the chamber, he looks through the barrel from back to front, just to make sure there isn’t a stray bullet gunning for a nasty surprise.

He opens his kit to begin the cleaning, but he notices that the kit is missing the microfiber cloth— he must have forgotten to put it back after he washed it last time. He lets out a quick breath, a little disappointed that he can’t get started on the task right away, but gets up to fetch the cloth regardless.

It’s waiting for him in his dryer, and he quickly leaves the laundry room with it because he can’t _wait_ to start cleaning his gun. He steps into the dining room, excited at the prospect of seeing his beloved, laying gently on the table, disarmed and ready to get stripped, cleaned, and lubricated.

His beloved, his favorite, his most sexy—

“Shawn?” Lassiter yells out, seeing him in his pajama pants with his hands on the gun. “Whoa, get the hell away from that!”

Shawn’s response doesn’t match his urgency. “What?”

Lassiter runs towards Shawn, but it’s too late to stop him. Shawn picks up the gun and examines it, turning it over in his hands and feeling the weight.

“Whoa, watch where you’re pointing that thing!” Lassiter backs off when Shawn lifts the gun to look through the barrel for a good measure.

“Oh come on, Lassie, it’s _unloaded_ ,” Shawn enunciates, rolling his eyes at the same time. “And you know I have handled guns before.”

“Well, it’s _mine_!” Lassiter complains, stepping in closer to take the gun away from Shawn. “A man’s gun is something very personal.”

But Shawn twists his body and pulls the gun away with him, putting it just out of Lassiter’s reach. “What, did you name it? Some girl’s name? Ooh, or is it _Shawn_?”

Lassiter sighs, annoyed at his reckless behavior, and tries to nab the gun out of his hands again. “Just give it to me, Shawn.”

Despite his protests, Shawn continues to play keep-away with his gun, squeaking “Just hold on a minute!” as he fiddles with his baby. Christ, it’s actually quite distressing to see his gun handled so carelessly.

“Shawn, you better not leave a scratch on it!”

Then, Lassiter sees the unimaginable.

Shawn disassembles the gun expertly and deftly, stripping it down into its major components: barrel, slide, guide rod, and the frame. He lays down each of the pieces onto the table, neatly arranging them in a row, and steps away from it with a proud smile on his face.

_Whoa_.

It feels like his brain is frozen.

“How ‘bout that, Lass?” Shawn asks, nudging him on his shoulders.

“Shawn, did you just—”

“ _Yeah_.”

The rest of his body feels extremely hot.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Lassiter blurts out, his breath trembling towards the end.

Shawn looks at him with a confused smile, almost quizzical with his brows crooked all the way up.

“Do it again,” Lassiter asks, because he wants to see the steps he missed the first time around.

“What?”

“Do it again, Shawn.”

“ _Hoooookay_ ,” Shawn chuckles, but indulges Lassiter with his request.

Shawn knows which pieces he needs to pick up one after another as he assembles the gun back together, rather quickly like he has practiced it many a times before. Once he snaps all the pieces together with a satisfying click, he gently holds the gun up in his hand, his fingers gingerly wrapped around the grip, but keeping his index finger pointedly off the trigger.

After showing Lassiter his handiwork, he moves back onto disassembling it down to its components again, his motions so fluid and oozing _expertise_. When Shawn puts the last piece down on the table, Lassiter _groans_.

Christ, why hasn’t Shawn mentioned any of this to him before?

Lassiter finds himself pushing Shawn further towards the table, wrapping his arms around his stomach. If he is overcome by the urge to take Shawn right here, and right now, Shawn needs to understand that it’s partly his fault.

“This thing is really turning you on, huh?” Shawn asks, bracing himself against the table with his hands.

“Fuck,” Lassiter gasps, barely audible as he nuzzles the back of Shawn’s neck. “ _Yeah_.”

Lassiter can’t believe how hard he is already. He grinds his hips against Shawn, his breath rough and heavy as he growls.

“ _Lassie_ ,” Shawn gasps when Lassiter’s hand reaches down lower, palming over his cock.

“Shawn, you have no idea how hot this is for me,” he says through his gritted teeth, barely holding onto his urge to rip the clothes away from Shawn.

He can hear Shawn letting out a quiet laugh through his nose. “Why don’t you show me?”

Lassiter growls, letting his hands fist into his shirt and over his body. “Fuck, Shawn, I’m going to fuck you so hard over this table that you can’t walk tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that sounds really good, Lassie,” Shawn gasps, rocking his hips back in earnest.

With Shawn’s ass over his cock, he doesn’t even try to hold himself back anymore. He pushes his hand inside Shawn’s pajama pants past the waistband and pulls out his cock, heavy and hot in his hands like his gun after a round at the shooting range. Lassiter groans into Shawn’s back, his mouth placing frenzied kisses onto his neck as he pumps him slowly.

Shawn lets out a moan, pushing himself closer towards Lassiter, pressing their bodies together. Lassiter is moments away from bending Shawn over the table, but he notices the pieces of the gun on the table. _Fuck_ , right.

With an exasperated sigh, Shawn looks back in confusion when he pushes away from him. “Where are you going?” he asks, as he watches Lassiter pick up the pieces of his gun and throw them into his kit.

“I’m just going to move these somewhere else,” Lassiter lets out, hurriedly packing the kit and walking towards the living room.

Shawn whines from behind. “The table is more than big enough, Lassie.”

Oh, but Shawn isn’t thinking big enough. He puts the kit on top of the coffee table and rummages through the drawer across. When he finds the lube, he lunges back towards Shawn, his hands grasping onto his hair and pushing him back towards the table with his weight.

“Shawn, why didn’t you ever tell me?” Lassiter asks, devouring the back of his neck with heavy breaths, pulling the back of his pants down over his ass, and undoing his own pants in quick succession.

“It aah—” Shawn yelps when Lassiter bites his neck, his equally harsh clamp of his hands over his waist pulling him closer to his cock. “—it, _fuck_ Lassie, it never came up.”

He figures it’s true. Shawn always told him the truth when they were about to fuck, and if that’s not the best part about dating Shawn, it’s the fact that he doesn’t need much prep to take his cock. The amount of times he was terrified that he would hurt Shawn, worried that Shawn wasn’t prepped enough, Shawn proved him otherwise. He could squeeze a bit of lube, tease him with his fingers a little bit, and then slide in, just like how he is doing right now.

“Give it to me, Lassie,” Shawn pants as his cock stretches its way in. “If I had known it would make you this hot and bothered, and honestly _feral_ , I would have done it a whole lot sooner.”

Shawn has the audacity to demand more when he’s the one sprawled over the table, with one of his legs hiked up onto the table, with the pants still pooled around his other leg, with his ass full of his cock. Lassiter thrusts in just a little bit harder, pushing himself in as deep as he could go. Shawn finally lets out that moan he’s been looking for, the high pitched whine that he makes that drives Lassiter wild.

“Yeah, you like that Shawn? Me bending you over the table and taking you rough?”

Shawn can’t answer. He’s busy moaning and whining, the little _nuh—nuh’_ s to match the wet slaps of his balls on him. The table shakes every time Lassiter thrusts in, pushing Shawn down onto the table. The box of napkins that started out in the middle of the table hangs dangerously close to the edge, and another thrust sends it tumbling down onto the floor.

Shawn’s hands are laying flat on the table, his fingers trying their best to grip onto the surface. But when his sweaty hand inevitably slides down, it leaves a spot of fog in the shape of his hands on the smooth surface. It’s an insignificant detail compared to the way Shawn’s body is tensed up under him, but it tells him how completely undone he is under him.

Lassiter brings his hand up to Shawn’s face, turned halfway as his cheek lies on the table. “Do you know the names of the parts too?” He asks, fingering through Shawn’s hair.

“Are you seriously quizzing me right now?”

“Names. Right now,” Lassiter barks, his hands fisting into his hair and his hips thrusting hard to drive his point.

“Fuck, okay! Um, there’s the body of the gun. And the barrel.”

“Go on.”

“The—the, _god_ , the chamber, the action, I—Lassie, the magazine?” The more Lassiter thrusts, the more Shawn grows incoherent. “Th—nuugh—”

“God, Shawn. You have _**no**. **fucking**. **idea**._” Lassiter emphasizes, driving himself in over and over at the same harsh rhythm.

“Fu—fuck, just like that, Lassie— just like—oh god, I’m getting close.”

“Shit, me too, Shawn.”

A few more strokes and Shawn shudders under him with a short, choked out cry, tensing and clenching around him. Lassiter doesn’t stop—in fact, he goes faster and harder, pressing down on Shawn’s head until he feels his balls tensing and he’s coming with a similar choked out cry.

“That was,” Shawn pants, his voice dry from all the moaning, “Lassie, I hope you know that was really hot. Seeing you go from zero to hundred just like that.”

“Jesus, Shawn,” Lassiter replies, noticing his come sliding out of Shawn’s ass as he pulls out. “That was, _fuck_ , that was so good Shawn.”

Shawn puts his leg down from the table, not minding the mess between his legs even a bit, and turns around for a kiss. Lassiter kisses back wholeheartedly, patting Shawn over his chest as he does so.

When they finally break from the kiss, Lassiter looks at Shawn with a newfound excitement and a confession to make.

“Shawn, I actually have a few more guns to clean.”


End file.
